your eyes are haunted but they smile
by i'm so far away
Summary: the war is over and why wouldn't it be if we're in each other's arms? ron&hermione


**relief: **_n._

**1. **it's over thank god but why wouldn't it be everyone is dead or unhappy and should i feel unhappy too? because honestly even if all is shattered i've still got the love,

**2.** he coming back to my arms and i feel the scent of his hair and i smile to myself because his arms are around me and i'm breathing hard against his neck and our friends are alright and safe and it's over,

**3. **his kiss not in the cheek but in the mouth and his lips barely moving against mine and it's oh-so-beautiful to just feel his taste of salt against my lips.

* * *

><p>"It's over," he repeats, and backs off slightly, still holding her close, and the tips of their noses brush and he smiles too. "This bloody war is over, Hermione."<p>

She nods, and can't help but hug him tightly, stopping him in the first syllable of something else he was going to say. There's something crucial about this moment: about the not letting go, about her abusing the intimacy that was built so slowly but so rightly nonetheless. He doesn't complain either, just putting his hand on her hair, brushing her goddamn hair like he has been for years even though he hasn't, and she doesn't have to look up to know that there's a smile on that face of his.

Harry is around, must be around somewhere, but they don't listen to the shouts and the greetings and the people, because all they have is each other in this very little moment. They're more than themselves, they are more than the love they feel – they took part in the biggest and bloodiest war in the wizard world, but right now that's unimportant. Right now they're Hermione and Ron, two kids who were silly enough to not do this before.

* * *

><p><strong>silly: <strong>_adj._

**1. **i wonder if she likes me but she couldn't possibly,

or could she?

* * *

><p>In the fervour of the moment they forget about the bad things that have happened. They exchange a look of pure gladness to be alive. Soon Molly comes and kisses them both in the heads, and doesn't seem to find anything particularly different in the scene – even though her son is in the arms of Hermione, she sees nothing unusual. "Thank Merlin you're both alright," she says, but she's not talking, she's smiling, she's grinning, she's yelling and hugging them both.<p>

Hermione laughs softly, and Ron looks at her in the eye. "We should find your family, don't you think? Let them know that you're alright."

* * *

><p><strong>we: <strong>_pron._

**1. **the impossibility of believing you're alone in this because you're not,

**2. **not having to do anything hard on your own because you've got them and you've got _him_ and he's ready oh my he is finally ready and so are you,

**3. **not having to do anything easy on your own because you wouldn't want to and because you really shouldn't because you love him and she loves you and you've got friends,

**4. **because

simply because.

* * *

><p>"We should," Hermione says, and her voice fails a little, but her eyes are firm and decisive and so determined. Ron smiles, and they're forced to pull apart because Molly is, too, but Ron looks for her hand and they hold hands and he squeezes it.<p>

"Where are them? Could we get you a ride?" Molly asks, always so helpful and motherly and Hermione wants to have her as her mother-in-law forever and be a bride and she's having the silliest yet thoughts.

"They're safe, don't worry," is the automatic answer, and she feels a knot in her throat dissolving, because she knows for sure now that her parents will have their daughter again and she won't have to spend her last moments parentless. "Do you know where Harry is?"

Molly gives them a smirk, and points to far her left, and with that cue, she leaves, too. At first Ron is tense, but then he isn't anymore. Harry is with Ginny, and they look happy and in love and so relieved. Hermione turns to Ron.

A billion unsaid things over the years go by in a millisecond. Ron forgets about Harry and Ginny and Molly and the world of a thousand friends around them, because he is holding her face in his hands, and his hands are dirty but so is her face, and she doesn't mind anything at all, because the warmness of his body is so close.

* * *

><p><strong>proximity: <strong>_n._

**1.** the closeness of the heart, to not be confused with closure because there will never be one,

**2. **she's impossibly beautiful and how could i have missed her so much if we weren't apart for a second even and, **a) **how do i say that to her? **b) **will she think that i'm mental if i tell her that she's amazing right here and right now? **c) **just where was my mind that i didn't act before and why is she staring at me? **d) **do i even deserve this much? **e) **i don't care and i don't want to know, **f) **i don't want this moment to end,

**3. **i love her.

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><p>"I—" she tries, but smiles in the middle of the sentence, cuts herself off, and lowers her eyes in mild embarrassment. He smiles and smiles brighter than she's seen in a very long time.<p>

"I do, too," he says, and kisses the tip of her nose, which makes her laugh just a little, and wrap her arms around his neck. "A lot," he confesses, and holds her by the waist.

The world might as well be ending all over again around them because this moment is all that they'll care for only God knows how long. There's relief and they are silly but most of all they are a we, and the proximity is there to never be ignored again.

* * *

><p><strong>happiness: <strong>_n_.

**1. **i love you

so

so

so

so

so much.


End file.
